


three whole words, eight letters late

by cantsaythursday (horriblekids)



Category: All Time Low
Genre: M/M, Muteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-20
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 15:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3139742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horriblekids/pseuds/cantsaythursday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there are so many things that alex cannot say. he's going to tell zack how he feels, though, one way or another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm importing my old ATL fics from Livejournal to here! You can find me now on tumblr [here](http://saidtheskeletons.tumblr.com).

_They are fourteen years old. Zack Merrick has just crawled into bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. He wonders if his parents will ever stop fighting, if they are aware that he can hear them. He can hear it every time his father calls his mother a ‘filthy slut’, and he doesn’t need to ask anyone to know what it means. At fourteen years old, he knows. There is surprisingly little he can do to stop them. After all, they are adults and he is barely a teenager. His one consolation is knowing, whatever happens between his parents, that he will always have his best friend to lean on. Zack wonders whether his father will storm out that night, slamming doors behind him and causing the framed pictures in the front foyer to fall and shatter. A particularly large storm front is blowing through, freezing everything over and making the roads shiny with sleet and ice. It’s too dangerous to drive anywhere. The wind whistles through the loose eaves on the house. His parents are always fighting. Some nights it seems as if they will never stop._

Sometimes Zack wishes his father would just leave, and put all three of them out of their misery. He wishes that he would leave and never come back, so he would never have to lie in his bedroom with a pillow clamped over his ears again to try and pretend that nothing is wrong. Though his hearing is muffled, he hears the phone when it rings. It’s strange, given the lateness of the hour. Zack’s thoughts immediately turn to his grandmother in Anaheim. He closes his eyes, wills himself to fall asleep. A few moments later, Mama is rapping on his bedroom door.

She says, “Zack? Honey? Are you awake?” The hinges squeak as the door swings open. Zack tries to make himself as small as possible; he just knows something horrible has happened because his mother is crying. Even in the darkness, he knows the sound of her voice well enough to be able to tell. “Zack, wake up,” she murmurs, shaking his shoulders to rouse him. Annoyed, he bats her hands away. He isn’t a child anymore. The air is still as he pushes himself into a sitting position, pretending to rub the sleep from his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks stupidly, jumping at the squeak in his still-unsteady voice. He was deep in the throes of puberty still, a fact not forgotten by his small group of friends. “Mama?” She sits down at the foot of the bed, mattress sinking under the weight of her plump body. Zack’s stomach tightens uncomfortably. He toys with the hem of his threadbare t-shirt anxiously. Why won’t she tell him?

“Alex’s brother was in a car accident,” she says softly. “He didn’t make it...”

Zack feels a terrible wave of sadness wash over him. He had liked Daniel, thought he was a good guy and looked up to him almost as much as Alex did. Despite the hour, his first instinct is to go to Alex’s house to comfort him. There must be something he can do. It doesn’t seem real – this is something that happens to other people. Wet, angry tears stream down his face. He stumbles out of bed, pulling on a pair of jeans over his boxer shorts. “No, no,” he mumbles. “This isn’t happening, this can’t... Mom, I need to go over there.” He pulls on a hoodie, ignoring the zipper when he can’t get it to work because his hands are trembling too badly. She is still sitting there, crying and not doing anything. It’s making him angry. Why isn’t she doing anything?

Angrily, he storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Maybe he is just like his father after all. He stomps down the stairs, pounding his feet into the floorboards hard. Without any regard for jackets or shoes, he’s bounding through the knee-deep snow, trying to get next door. It has never snowed this hard in the twelve years they’ve lived in this house. He walks right into the house without knocking. The kitchen light is still on, flooding the narrow entryway with light. Zack brushes past Mrs. Gaskarth, taking the stairs two at a time until he is at the top landing. The door to Alex’s room is wide open, although the older boy has all of his lights turned off. Alex is lying on the bed, curled in a ball with his knees tucked tight against his chest, just sobbing and making a peculiar keening noise low in his throat.

Zack sighs and lies down next to his friend, unsure of what to do. “I’m right here,” he says finally, reaching out and rubbing Alex’s shoulders in an attempt to comfort him. The dark-haired boy whimpers softly, rolling over and clinging to him desperately. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Zack murmurs. “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” He fights back his own tears for Alex’s sake, holding his best friend close until, sometime much later that night, his sobs finally subside and he falls into a light, fitful sleep. Zack does not sleep at all that night; he lies awake watching the boy sleep and wishes there was something more he could do. It hurts him to see someone he cares about so much in such obvious despair.

The next morning, when Alex wakes up, Zack’s expecting him to want – no, to need – to talk about what has happened. When he doesn’t, everyone is concerned. They assume that he is in shock. For weeks, Alex says nothing about it to anyone, and it is Zack who discovers that Alex hasn’t been talking at all. Why? Because he can’t. Somehow, the trauma of having his brother taken from him so suddenly has robbed him of the ability to speak. He is mute. Zack cries about this alone in his bedroom for many nights, wondering what can be done. It all hurts too much. The memory of Alex lying there, scared and broken and unable to speak, pains him more than words can ever say. He can still remember how excited Alex was the first time they rode in the car with Daniel, the excited stream of chatter he’d kept up until they’d reached their destination. He can still remember the last words Alex ever spoke in his awkward, cracking pubescent voice: “I can’t believe he’s been so fucking selfish. It’s not like it’s that much of a stretch for him to take us, too.”

*

Zack wakes with a start. Sweat is slicked across his back; he’s been having nightmares again. It always happens to him as soon as the weather gets colder. He glances at the clock on his bedside table, thinking that he is late for homeroom until he realizes that it is Saturday, and furthermore, school has just let out for the holidays. The cold air kisses his skin as he drags himself out of bed, ambling downstairs in search of breakfast. Neither of his parents has woken yet, though he hadn’t figured they would. He likes the stillness of morning. It allows him to sort through his thoughts before he starts his day. On this particular morning, he’s looking forward to a jog on the treadmill to make up for his forgetfulness the previous night. After he finishes his cold cereal, he steals away downstairs to the oft-neglected treadmill and sits at the end, lacing his shoes.

This is what the therapists taught him to do when he begins to feel stressed out. The endorphins from the exercise never fail to make him feel better about everything. He starts out walking lazily, enjoying the bounce from one foot to the other as he channel-surfs for something other than infomercials. There is no such thing as Saturday morning cartoons during the holiday season. Finally, he gives up and just runs hard. The belt of the treadmill whizzes under his feet, occasionally stuttering and jerking. His father still hasn’t fixed the goddamn thing, and it’s been off-kilter for months. Zack likes running. It is a good distraction. And if he runs long enough, hard enough, he’s too tired at night to do much more than collapse in a heap on his bed, all thoughts of masturbating long gone. He likes it that way. His body, all hard muscles and sloping planes and corded tendons, is an escape from the chaos in his mind.

It’s not that he is ashamed of anything. His parents know that he is gay; his best friend knows he is gay. What they don’t know, and will definitely never find out about, is the embarrassingly huge crush he has on Alex Gaskarth, otherwise known as his best friend in the entire universe. That would not be fine. He’s been running for maybe twenty minutes when he hears familiar footfalls upstairs, and a moment later the muffled thud as Alex lands at the bottom of the staircase. It’s not unusual for Alex to let himself into the house. Zack’s already fluttering pulse quickens when the boy grins, flopping onto the decrepit couch Zack’s mom leaves downstairs for them. He slows his pace until he is speed-walking, allows himself to slide off the back of the treadmill and stumbles. “Good morning,” he pants, wishing he had at least put on a shirt or something. He always feels a little embarrassed when Alex sees him without one.

Alex looks up at him, raises an eyebrow. He pokes Zack’s abs and makes a face, which Zack assumes to mean something along the lines of, ‘You work out too much.’ Zack sprawls out next to him, still sweating and breathing hard. Alex wrinkles his nose and begins writing what will be the first of many sentences on his notepad that day. Once he’s done, he shows Zack. ‘Your abs are really beginning to creep me out,’ he says.

Zack frowns and replies, “You’re just jealous because there’s no one lusting after your awkward little British body. I’m sexy as hell.” He can barely contain his laughter, though, so the effect is ruined. Alex smacks him on the bicep, giving him a sour look. It’s so adorable when he’s grumpy.

‘If there are so many people lusting after your “hot bod” then why don’t you have a boyfriend yet?’

“Shut up, you little monster,” Zack laughs, elbowing Alex’s skinny frame lightly. “I haven’t found someone who deserves me yet.” He leans in, wondering what it would be like to kiss Alex’s soft lips, but stops himself. That is definitely not a safe train of thought to be having. Instead, he pulls back, gives Alex a little shove, and takes the rest of the space on the couch for himself. Alex glares at him, scrawling something quickly below his previous note.

He smirks as Zack reads it. ‘And I suppose it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re slowly turning into the Hulk? Maybe boys would like you better if you’d stop abusing the most important man in your life.’ He then adds, ‘You’re so egotistical.’ He underlines the last word, looking extremely satisfied with himself. Zack huffs, reaching over Alex for the television remote. It’s merely coincidence that in doing so, his arm brushes Alex’s, sending tingles creeping across his skin. Coincidence that he can smell Alex in this close proximity, taking in the familiar scent of Old Spice and... Something else, something that Alex does not smell like every day and that he cannot place. This is something new; it’s something that makes his muscles clench uncomfortably. He would like nothing more than to find an excuse for his lips to graze Alex’s skin so he can take in more of that exquisite scent. However, it’s not likely to happen.

“I am not egotistical,” he says sulkily, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re one to talk... Or not, as the case may be. It’s easy for you to sound good; you get to think about everything you want to say before you write it down. Some of us could only wish to be so lucky.” Alex ignores this last comment, choosing instead to put his feet in Zack’s lap and lie across the couch looking smug. He’s doodling on his notepad, apparently bored already. The scritch-scratch of his pen across the page is irritating. Zack flicks his kneecap out of annoyance. The boy recoils, looking quite pissed, but still says nothing. He never does. It’s been three years. They watch the morning news in silence; Zack absently rubs the mute boy’s feet, kneading the bare skin with his thumbs. Alex sighs complacently, placing his notepad and pen on the coffee table. Within minutes, Alex has dozed off, leaving Zack to one of his favourite pastimes: watching Alex sleep.

It’s irresistible, really. Alex’s dark bangs flop in front of his eyes, making him look totally innocent. Coupled with Zack’s already overwhelming desire to hold and protect him, it’s like kryptonite. He wants to reach out and stroke the boy’s cheek, to feel the soft skin under his fingertips. A sliver of pale skin is plainly visible where Alex’s shirt fails to meet with his jeans; Zack can just see where his sharp hipbone is exposed, making his mouth feel totally dry. Fuck, why does Alex have to be so pretty? He is all soft skin and dark hair and pouty lips, and it drives Zack crazy. The knowledge that he doesn’t reciprocate, that he is totally off-limits, makes moments like these even more precious. Zack sits there, openly staring at his best friend’s sleeping form for as long as he can bear it. He is a very patient person.

*

_They are sixteen years old. It is raining; they are in Alex’s bedroom. Zack is perched on the windowsill, saying nothing. He’s been staring out at the street for a while now. Alex is lying on his bed, worried. This has been going on for a few weeks now. It’s nothing he can pinpoint exactly, just that Zack hasn’t been acting quite himself and it concerns him. Sighing quietly to himself, he grabs one of his many notepads and begins to write. He isn’t sure exactly what he wants to say, yet, but he needs to know what is going on with Zack. Seeing the blonde upset really bothers him. They are best friends. They’re supposed to talk about the things that are going on in their lives. What if it’s something really horrible? It’s especially alarming because Zack never cries, and he looks like he might be about to._

He writes, ‘I know that something is going on with you, and I’m really worried about you. I don’t even care what it is, Zack. I just need to know... You’re like my brother. I don’t like it when you’re upset.’ With shaking hands, he tears the page out and hands it to Zack, pacing the length of the messy room anxiously. Zack looks at him with tear-filled hazel eyes. Quickly, he scribbles, ‘Please don’t cry...’ and shows it to Zack. Now more than ever, he wishes he could speak. He feels so stupid having to write everything down, but anytime he even attempts to voice his thoughts, it feels as if his throat will close up on itself. If he could say something to anyone, though, it would probably be Zack.

Zack is quiet for a long time before he speaks. He begins with, “I’ll understand if you don’t want to be my friend anymore after this.” Alex shakes his head, trying to make Zack realize that nothing is going to end their friendship. They have been friends forever; does he actually think that Alex would leave after so long? Considering they’ve already been through hell together, there isn’t much that could tear them apart. Zack clears his throat softly. “I, um. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately...” He inhales deeply, pressing his fingers to his temples. He sits down on the floor, cross-legged with his head in his hands. Whatever is wrong, it’s obviously bothering him a lot.

Alex writes, ‘It’s going to take a lot more than something stupid to make me want to stop being friends with you. Unless you tell me that you’ve been moonlighting as an axe murdering psychopath or something, you have nothing to worry about. You’re pretty much stuck with me for the rest of your life.’

Breathing shakily, Zack looks him in the eye and says something so softly Alex can’t make it out the first time. “I’m gay,” he repeats. He looks absolutely terrified. Alex feels so, so relieved. This is something he can deal with. In the few seconds before Zack said anything, he had been so afraid of being abandoned again. He throws his arms around his friend’s neck, pressing their bodies together in a tight embrace. Once again he is filled with resentment at the knowledge that he can’t speak. What would he say, if he could? Maybe there are no words for what he’s feeling at the moment; his body is buzzing with anticipation and adrenalin and relief. He hugs Zack so hard he can feel the other boy’s heart racing. “You’re not... freaked out?” Zack asks. Alex shakes his head. He goes so far as to flick Zack’s ear before scrabbling around for something to write on.

‘You idiot!’ he scrawls quickly. ‘I was so worried that it was going to be something horrible!’

Zack sighs. “It feels pretty horrible,” he says softly. He wipes the tears from his eyes, looking terribly self-conscious. Alex reaches out and ruffles his hair affectionately. It’s going to be alright. Zack smiles sadly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks like he’s about to say something else, but then he falters... “I wanted to tell you, but I was so scared... After I told my parents, I started freaking out about it and then I was afraid you wouldn’t want to be friends anymore.”

This is breaking Alex’s heart in ways he doesn’t fully understand. All he knows is that he’s got this tugging feeling in his chest, and he wants to hug Zack again... He shakes it off, and they play video games for the rest of the afternoon like always. It’s coincidence that his skin burns every time Zack’s arm brushes his. They’re best friends; it’s inevitable that they’re going to be affectionate with each other. He shouldn’t think anything of it. After all, it’s not like Zack is interested in him in that way. When the pizza guy arrives and Zack gets up to answer the door and pay him, Alex slips into the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. Something is wrong with him. He should not be thinking this way about his best friend. This is definitely inappropriate. Maybe it’s a good thing that he can’t speak, because otherwise he might accidentally say something stupid that would make Zack hate him for life. If this is something he’s going to be saddled with, he is just going to have to find a way to cope.

He spends the rest of the evening peeking over at Zack shyly, wondering if Zack is doing the same when he’s not looking. Of course, that is wishful thinking at its finest. Zack has a really cute smile, now that he is taking the time to think about it, and gorgeous eyes too. Alex is glad that they’re only watching movies, or his blush would be totally obvious. He leans into Zack’s side, half because he is sleepy and half because he really, really wants to cuddle. It’s a pleasant surprise when, after a moment, Zack’s arm is draped carefully over his shoulders. “You cold?” Zack whispers, and though he’s not, he nods anyway, knowing that if he pretends to be cold Zack will pull him closer. This is something that Alex very much wants. He knows by the feeling in his chest that this is more than a crush. He feels very stupid for not realizing sooner that he’s in love with his best friend. Although, he’s never really given much thought to his sexual orientation before now. When Zack’s hand comes to rest on his hip, he pretends not to notice.

*

Alex wakes up, slightly disoriented until he remembers that he is in Zack’s basement. His feet are in Zack’s lap; Zack’s left hand is resting on his ankle. This fact alone is enough to make him blush, but then he realizes that his best friend is still not wearing a shirt. He immediately averts his eyes. Not that there is anything to be embarrassed of, exactly... It’s just that looking at Zack’s body tends to have a certain effect on him. Especially after last night, and that dream he’d had where they had been fooling around on this very couch. Alex has a surprisingly dirty mind for someone who has never even had his first kiss. He totally capitalizes on the fact that he is scrawny and defenceless, something which he isn’t likely going to be able to get away with after today, no matter which way his plan unfolds. For a few weeks, he’s been trying with no luck to determine whether Zack only sees him as a friend, or maybe – hopefully – something more. It’s frustrating, because they are normally very affectionate with each other, so it’s next to impossible for him to tell.

Today he is going to try something either incredibly brave, or incredibly foolish. He’s been practicing for about a week now, trying to work up the nerve to do it. Zack leans over and brushes his bangs aside, which is just enough to make Alex’s breath catch in his throat. He mentally counts to five, trying to prolong his embarrassment at least a little while longer. “Wake up, dork,” Zack says. Alex bats pathetically at his arm, not wanting to move. He knows it’s pointless to fight; a few seconds later he finds himself thrown over Zack’s shoulder, and Zack carries him upstairs that way. Secretly, he’s pleased every time Zack does this, largely in part because he gets to check out Zack’s butt. He still pretends to put up a struggle. If he could say something, it would probably be along the lines of whatever teenage girls say when their boyfriends are being stupid and messing around.

When he realizes that his notepad has been forgotten downstairs, a momentary panic grips him. Zack sets him down carefully on the bed. Unfortunately, right after that, he pulls on a t-shirt. Alex frowns; he was enjoying the view. He tugs on the hem of Zack’s shirt and pouts his lips, trying to indicate that he has no way to communicate at the moment. Zack flops down on the bed beside him, grinning stupidly. Mentally, Alex is shouting at him. This is not in the plan. Nowhere in his plan did he account for being in Zack’s bedroom, on Zack’s bed. He had kind of been planning, in all honesty, to take the band-aid approach – say his piece, and then slowly die of embarrassment for weeks afterward.

“Stop pouting,” Zack says. “It’s not like you ever say anything interesting anyway. All you ever do is talk my ear off about stupid things I don’t care about.” Alex scowls, prodding Zack’s side with his index finger grumpily. He knows Zack is kidding, but he’s still annoyed. Zack makes a face. “Why do you smell like a male prostitute?” he asks.

Alex pinches him hard.

“Fuck! What was that for?” Zack yelps. When Alex gives him a smug look and digs his nails in harder, he says, “Okay, fine. You smell like... uh... Why do you smell like Abercrombie and Bitch? It’s weird; you don’t even smell like you. Now stop fucking pinching me before I make you regret it.” This does nothing to deter Alex from his current plan of torturing Zack; quite to the contrary, he’s praying that Zack gets annoyed because he’s just thought of a way to carry out his mission without a notepad in hand. He continues bugging Zack, poking him and pinching him and being generally irritating, until Zack gets annoyed with him and pins him to the bed. Alex’s heart skips a beat. He gazes up into Zack’s hazel eyes and smiles innocently, pouting and blinking his eyes slowly. He has been thinking about this for a week.

So he swallows hard, willing his body to cooperate with him for once. It’s not like the thing he wants to say is that difficult, but it’s still enough to make his heart race and his palms go sweaty. He can’t do it. Already, he can feel his throat tightening, his airway restricting and his breathing coming in ragged little gasps. This is embarrassing. Frustrated, he mentally kicks himself. How hard is it to say three stupid words? Well, four if he can find the courage to say that many, but regardless. It should not be this hard to say them. All the preparation has been for nothing, because he can’t do this. He is never going to be able to tell Zack how he feels, and even if he does, it’s not like Zack feels the same way. Zack deserves to be with someone normal; he deserves someone he can have a real conversation with. Now he feels stupid in his tight clothes and vaguely he wonders if his cologne is really making him smell like a prostitute.

“You’re weird,” Zack mutters, shaking his head. Alex groans, staring at the ceiling and hating himself for being a coward. Zack climbs over him, wandering out of the room. He’s probably hungry again.

Once he’s left the room, Alex rolls onto his side and whispers, “I love you...” This is the most words he’s said since they were fourteen years old. It’s not that difficult. He’s scared, though, of what his voice will sound like after years of neglect. What if it sounds awful? He says it again, this time a little more confidently: “I love you.” Just the thought of saying it when Zack is actually in the room makes him feel sick with nerves. This is a terrible plan; why did he think it was a good idea?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there are so many things that alex cannot say. he's going to tell zack how he feels, though, one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stuff in italicized font is flashbacks/dreams; normal font is in the present day.

_They are fifteen years old. It’s been a year to the day since the accident that took Daniel’s life, and Alex is a mess. He’s been crying all day, glued to Zack’s side as they watch movies on the ancient, slightly mouldy-smelling couch in Zack’s basement. Zack doesn’t know what to do besides hold him. There is nothing he can say to take away the pain. So he just sits there, arms around Alex, rubbing his back and occasionally nuzzling him. He ignores the dizzy, tingly feeling he’s getting from being this close to his best friend, because he definitely is not ready to even think about the possibility of having a crush on another guy. Besides that, he’s pretty sure it’s extremely inappropriate to even think that kind of thing about Alex._  
  
Alex tugs at his shirt, looking up at him with sad eyes and sniffling delicately. He whimpers softly before burying his face in Zack’s neck. Zack whispers, “I’m not going anywhere,” unable to trust his voice not to betray him. “Lex, I promise you, I’m not going anywhere.” Alex’s arms curl around his neck; the brunette clings to him helplessly, unable to voice his feelings. For a very long time, they stay like that, with Zack occasionally reaching up to stroke Alex’s cheek or pet his hair. The words are sitting on the tip of his tongue, but he knows that it would be a mistake to say anything. It scares him to see Alex like this; he’s gotten so thin over the last year. He’s so tiny and so vulnerable and so very, very fragile.   
  
He sighs, wishing the day would just end so that their lives can go back to normal. It’s sort of a selfish thing to wish, but at fifteen years old this is still difficult for him to process. Alex is probably the person he’s closest to and it’s weird for him to see his normally cheerful best friend so upset. Since he’s been slowly starting to come to terms with the fact that may not be attracted to women, he’s been paranoid about getting too close with other guys in case they think he’s... Well, that. He already knows what people around the school say about him and Alex. The last thing he needs is more people accusing him of being gay. But Alex’s body is warm, his skin soft, and it’s hard to deny the fact that being this close to him is giving Zack butterflies. He chooses to put those thoughts out of his mind. Today, he needs to set all his other feelings aside and be there for Alex in whatever way he can.   
  
“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers. It’s a false promise, but the emotions behind his words are real. There are other things he wants to say, too, but thinking about actually saying them is too much. He presses his lips to Alex’s forehead, leaving them there a moment before he starts to feel embarrassed and pulls away. Fifteen year olds shouldn’t be doing this kind of thing, he thinks. They shouldn’t have to know this type of pain and loss; they shouldn’t have such barriers to overcome. All the months of hard work, the thousands of dollars spent by Alex’s parents on speech therapists and pathologists and hours and hours of counselling are going to waste. He’s not talking. Zack suspects that all the fuss is actually making the problem worse; drawing attention to the problem is only causing Alex greater embarrassment. It’s unfair.   
  
So Zack knows that he’s crying as much for his lost brother and the rift in his family as he is for himself. He whines quietly; Zack kisses his forehead again. Alex looks up at him, curious eyes tinged with sadness. His lower lip is trembling, and for a terrible moment Zack wonders if he might finally say something. Instead of saying anything at all, he sighs miserably and burrows further into Zack’s arms.   
  
Zack says, “It’s okay. I’m right here.” He isn’t sure why Alex has come to him for comfort at all – he’s terrible at knowing what to say in this type of situation and his doughy stomach can’t be very appealing. But as long as Alex needs him to be, he’s there. It’s so cold in the basement... With only a faint twinge of guilt, he squeezes Alex’s waist gently, pulling him even closer.   
  
The words die on his lips before he can say them, so he mouths ‘I love you’ into his best friend’s hair instead. He spends the rest of the afternoon with Alex curled up against him, crying on and off, although it seems mostly to be ‘on’. And he makes stupid jokes, trying to get the boy to smile, though he knows it probably won’t work. It pays off in the late evening, though, when Alex dozes off in his arms, smiling faintly. That sight alone makes the entire day worth it. He feels slightly creepy, sitting in his basement watching his best friend sleep. However, as far as concerns go, there are worse people he could find himself falling for. He probably won’t act on these feelings. Zack’s not sure if Alex feels attracted to anyone, to be entirely honest. It might be better that way. People don’t understand Alex. They don’t understand that he didn’t choose to be this way, that it just happened, and that prodding him and asking about it constantly is not going to make it better. There is nothing wrong with him. Alex is fine – no, more than fine – just the way he is.  
  


*

  
  
Zack realizes halfway through the day that it is three years to the day since the accident, and neither of them has said anything about it. Alex is lying on his bed, rereading his college essay for what feels like the thousandth time while he paces his bedroom, fretting about them. He pauses for a minute, studying Alex’s face as he reads, sucking on the end of his pen absentmindedly. Is it his imagination, or do Alex’s clothes seem tighter than usual today? Something is different about him; his jeans are hugging him in all the right places and his shirt is riding up his stomach ever so slightly. He even smells different, which is weird. Zack’s stomach sinks. Oh God, he thinks, it’s finally happening. Alex is interested in someone, and he’s trying to impress them, which explains both his appearance and the slight change in his demeanour. It doesn’t make sense for him to get all pretty just to hang out with Zack, though, and especially not on a day that is typically marked with sadness for both of them. The pieces to the puzzle don’t fit right.  
  
To most people, it probably wouldn’t have mattered – it was only a pair of jeans and a hoodie, after all. But to Zack, it was the most fragile of hopes precariously set in front of the world’s largest wrecking ball. Alex chucks a balled-up piece of paper at him, demanding his attention once more. “You’re annoying,” he mutters, sitting down on the bed next to Alex nonetheless. “So is it good?” he asks hopefully. Alex wrinkles his nose, gnawing at his lower lip thoughtfully.   
  
He writes, ‘Well, you won’t be winning the Pulitzer Prize for your writing anytime soon, but I think it’s probably good enough to get you into a decent college.’ Zack frowns at the backhanded compliment. Alex winks at him, setting his notepad aside to tug Zack down so that they are lying side by side. The glow-in-the-dark stars they stuck up when they were twelve are still there, peeling and drooping after years of being attached improperly to the stucco ceiling. He fights the urge to reach out and brush Alex’s bangs out of his eyes; it’s a losing battle.   
  
“You’re a brat,” he informs his best friend. “I am a brilliantly talented writer.”  
  
Alex shakes his head, mouthing the word ‘No.’ He reaches for Zack, rearranging their limbs until he’s curled neatly into the blonde’s side. Satisfied with their position, apparently, he nuzzles Zack’s shoulder affectionately. This is confusing. The tip of his nose barely touches Zack’s neck as he moves even closer, until their bodies are pressed together in a way that does not feel entirely innocent.   
  
Zack breathes out shakily, allowing his arms to snake around Alex’s waist. He wonders if Alex can hear his heartbeat, because he can feel it pounding in his ears. Maybe he was premature in his dismissal of the landmark day; maybe this is Alex’s reaction to the anniversary of his brother’s passing. For a few minutes, he says nothing. He’s willing his stupid heart to calm down and stop embarrassing him, because he’s almost positive Alex can feel it going crazy. When the brunette’s fingers graze his arm lightly, he has to remind himself that they are just friends, no matter how much he wishes they were more than that. “You okay?” he asks softly. Alex nods, tugging at his lower lip like he does when he’s anxious or nervous. Zack can’t quite figure out what’s wrong. It bothers him, knowing that he can normally read his best friend like a book but that Alex’s present state of mind eludes him. “Alex, what’s wrong?”  
  
‘Nothing.’ But it is obviously something, and if it’s not the memory of the day three years prior, then he doesn’t know what it is. He doesn’t know what to do about – or how to fix – a problem that Alex won’t tell him about. There’s never been anything like this before; Alex has always told him everything. Zack feels the jealousy bubbling up inside him. Oh God, there is definitely someone else. And his grip on Alex’s waist tightens almost imperceptibly; it feels like Alex is slipping away from him. Soon there will be college and car rides and distance between them. It already hurts to think about. He wonders if Alex is thinking the same thing, but that can’t be it. The answers are never that simple.   
  


*

  
  
_They are sixteen years old. Alex is sitting by himself in the hospital waiting room; Zack has been gone for about half an hour. He doesn’t like not knowing what is going on. All he can think about is the brief instant it took him to hear the sickening snap of bone breaking, and the panic that had gripped his throat so tightly he almost couldn’t breathe. It’s one of those moments he is really kicking himself for, because if he wasn’t so screwed-up he would have been able to do more. But he isn’t brave. He cannot defend himself; he is powerless to deflect the things people say about him with words, because every time he even thinks about trying to speak, it feels as if his throat is trying to close in on itself. People have been flitting in and out of the room so quickly... Zack is probably fine by himself; he’s much braver than Alex could ever hope to be, but all the same Alex still feels guilty because this is his fault. If he wasn’t fucked up, Zack would not have to fight all his battles for him._  
  
He remembers the way Zack’s arms wrapped around him protectively as he cried. It was stupid, really, and he shouldn’t have been so emotional about it. People could be so cruel, though. And it was equally as stupid the way he clung helplessly to Zack and the way he instantly felt a little bit better after that, even though people were still saying awful things about him that may or may not have been true. It had been such a little remark – some stupid kid named Ben had called him a name, but it stung.  
  
He had been waiting by Zack’s locker – Alex’s classes let out early on Friday afternoons because he went to the alternative school across town, so he had walked over to wait for Zack until his classes finished for the day. He wasn’t even doing anything; he was sitting there waiting for his best friend because the bell had just rung, and then this asshole comes over, glares at him, and says, “Hey, faggot. Are you waiting for your stupid boyfriend or something?” And of course, Alex couldn’t say anything in reply. Panic gripped at his throat. When he didn’t respond, the guy shoved him. “What, are you stupid or something?”  
  
Zack came running over. “Leave him alone, Ben,” he growled, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist. “He’s not doing anything to you, so fuck off.” Alex whimpered, wishing he could be anywhere but there. He clung to Zack, trying to hide his tears, but it was too late. Zack hugged him tight, whispering, “It’s okay, Lex, I’m right here... You’re okay, you’re okay... He’s just an asshole. It’s okay, I promise. I’m right here.”   
  
“You know, they shouldn’t let fags like you into our school, Merrick.”  
  
Alex felt Zack’s muscles go tense. He was trying very hard not to have a panic attack, but even with Zack’s arms around him, he couldn’t calm himself down. Zack kissed his forehead lightly before letting go. There were only a handful of times Alex could remember ever seeing him this angry. He hissed, “You can either shut the fuck up, Ben, or I’ll make you. Your choice.”  
  
The kid said, “What, did it offend you that I upset your boyfriend? You’re fucking disgusting.”  
  
Before Alex even understood what was happening, Zack’s fist had connected solidly with the asshole’s face. He hates fighting; it is absolutely the most abhorrent thing anyone can do to hit another human being, but at the same time he felt a tiny thrill because Zack was defending him. He looked away, not wanting to watch. Then he heard the telltale clang of fists hitting metal, the unmistakable crack of bone splintering. “You fucker,” Zack spat at Ben’s retreating form. It hadn’t been a fair fight. Zack, muscular though he was, had been grossly overpowered by the other boy. He was cradling his injured wrist, obviously trying not to cry. “I hope someone fucking stabs him and leaves him to bleed to death in the street,” Zack muttered.   
  
Alex wrapped his arms around Zack’s neck and hugged him tight, mumbling “I’m sorry” into his neck. Zack didn’t hear him. Right? Or he would’ve said something back...   
  
Zack emerges from the double doors sporting a white plaster cast that already has a few signatures scrawled across it. “Sorry I took so long,” he apologizes. “You know you didn’t have to wait for me, right?” Alex wants to say something like, ‘You know you don’t have to defend me all the time,’ but he doesn’t. He knows he’s probably blushing, so he allows his bangs to flop into his eyes, at least obscuring part of his face. They walk home side by side, and after a few minutes Zack takes Alex’s hand with his good one, lacing their fingers together with a smile. Alex’s stomach does backflips. He can’t stop thinking about one thing: Zack didn’t correct Ben when Ben called Alex his boyfriend. It’s a small thing – and so, so stupid – but it means the world to him. Maybe Zack didn’t even realize he had done it.  
  
Before long, they are standing on the sidewalk between their houses. Zack hugs him, and Alex wishes he could say something to thank Zack for always standing by him. They’re just standing there, looking into each other’s eyes. It’s slightly awkward. Alex leans up and presses his lips to Zack’s cheek, hoping he’ll understand that this means ‘thank you.’   
  
Zack clears his throat and says, “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Lex. Please don’t feel like this is your fault or anything... It wasn’t. I should have had better control of myself. But that shit just makes me so angry... I mean, I’m not going to stand by and let somebody treat you like shit. I, um...” And Zack looks like he’s going to say something else, but if he is, Alex never finds out what it is, because Mama Merrick chooses that moment to appear and begin berating her son for getting into a fight at school. Zack sighs, giving Alex one last quick hug before trudging over to his house to face whatever punishment his mother would dole out on him.  
  


*

  
  
“Zack.”   
  
The sound of his name being spoken pulls him out of sleep. Groggily, he rubs at his eyes, trying to gather his wits about him. Alex is gazing up at him, biting his lip cutely and playing with the sleeves of his hoodie. “Shit,” Zack yawns. Then it dawns on him. “Did you just...?” Alex’s cheeks flush pink, and he nods before burying his face in Zack’s shoulder to hide his embarrassment. Wow. Zack doesn’t know what to do; he runs his hand up and down Alex’s side to try and calm him, which seems to be making his distress worse for whatever reason. He doesn’t want to scare the boy – this is the first thing Zack has heard him say in years, and he’s praying to whatever god might be listening that this is a sign something good is happening, finally.   
  
After a few minutes, Alex’s breathing slows to its normal rate. He looks so precious with a blush fading on his cheekbones, peeking up at Zack from beneath his bangs. “Hi,” Alex whispers, looking terrified. His fingers dig into Zack’s bicep, but it’s okay as long as he keeps this up. God, he is beautiful. Zack really wants to kiss him right now, which he knows would be a very bad decision, but he honestly can’t stop himself from wanting to. Alex’s lips look so soft and kissable.   
  
“You okay?” he asks, forcing himself to look at the wall instead of his best friend. The smaller boy’s fingers brush his neck and damned if his heart doesn’t skip a beat at the simple contact. The rational half of his mind is worrying about Alex. But the irrational part – the part that is winning by a landslide at the moment – can only focus on the fact that, for the first time in three years, Alex has said something. His name. That has to mean something. It’s almost dizzying to think about.   
  
“Zack,” Alex says again. His voice is different than Zack had expected it to be, a little deeper but definitely gorgeous. “I...” He begins to blush again, a faint pink tinge creeping across his pale skin. Zack’s heart is thumping in his chest; this is the kind of thing he only ever dreams about. Alex’s teeth clamp down on his full lower lip anxiously. The next words out of his mouth almost make Zack’s heart stop. “I love you.”  
  
Zack makes a sort of strangled noise in his throat; his brain isn’t processing this quite right. Did Alex really just... It can’t be happening. He’s probably dreaming this. He’s going to wake up and think that this is real, and it’s going to be really embarrassing and Alex will think he’s an idiot. But it would kind of explain Alex’s behaviour over the past few weeks – the new clothes, the change in attitude, the... Oh God. He really is an idiot. Alex has been trying to impress him this whole time, and he didn’t even notice. “I-I,” he stutters. “I l-love you too...”   
  
“You do?” Alex whispers shyly. His grip on Zack’s arm loosens.  
  
Zack nods. “I love you so much,” he murmurs. It’s almost overwhelming how his body is reacting to this turn of events. He reaches up and strokes Alex’s cheek affectionately, still in utter disbelief. Alex nuzzles against his hand gently, sliding his arms up until they’re around Zack’s neck. “Can I kiss you?” Zack whispers, terrified that Alex is going to say no. His synapses are obviously not firing correctly. What is he thinking? Alex is going to say no; any halfway logical person would say no.   
  
But then Alex is leaning in, and he can smell that delicious combination of Old Spice and cologne, and... Their lips brush softly, foreheads touching, noses rubbing together awkwardly. Alex pulls away, and whispers, “That was my first kiss ever.” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth; basically, he’s the most precious thing Zack has ever seen in his entire life. It’s unbelievable that someone this perfect has never been kissed before. That simply won’t do. Zack presses his lips to Alex’s, letting out a little sigh of contentment as Alex smiles into the kiss. He nips at the boy’s lower lip softly, pulling Alex closer to him and running his fingers through Alex’s soft hair. Alex mumbles an “I love you” into his lips and whines when Zack pulls away.   
  
Zack trails his fingers along the smooth expanse of skin where Alex’s shirt has ridden up. “We should do this right,” he says, gazing lovingly into Alex’s dark eyes. Getting that look in return sends a shiver down his spine. Nervously, he asks, “Will you be my boyfriend?”  
  
“Yeah,” Alex breathes, snuggling into his chest. He smiles sweetly, pokes Zack’s cheek and purrs, “Hi, boyfriend. I love you.”   
  
“Love you too,” Zack sighs happily. His fingers glide over Alex’s exposed hipbone, tracing little circles into the soft skin. Alex gasps at the unexpected contact, pressing his lips against Zack’s skin until Zack takes the hint and leans over to kiss him properly. Their lips are saying more than words possibly could; they are saying ‘I love you’ and ‘I’m glad that you’re mine’ and ‘I need you’ and ‘I want you’. Zack sucks on Alex’s lower lip, seeking permission to deepen the kiss. A moment later, Alex parts his lips, making a tiny sound in the back of his throat as their tongues meet, exploring previously uncharted territory. His hands slide up Zack’s shirt, eliciting an embarrassing moan from his boyfriend.   
  
He pulls away from Zack long enough to murmur, “Off,” and give the bottom of his t-shirt a meaningful tug. Impatiently, he starts pressing kisses into Zack’s neck, and repeats himself. “Shirt. Off.” Zack obliges, yanking it over his head and tossing it somewhere in the vicinity of his laundry basket. Alex smirks and says, “That’s better.” His fingers graze Zack’s abs, trailing up his chest uncertainly. “I have a sexy boyfriend,” he announces, kissing Zack’s jaw lightly.  
  
Zack kisses his forehead. “I like you this way,” he says. “Does this mean you’re...?”  
  
“Only to you,” Alex explains. He sits up and slithers out of his hoodie quickly before coming back to snuggle with Zack. “You’re different. I love you.” Somehow Zack suspects that this is the best explanation he is going to get at the moment, but he is strangely okay with that. He’s grinning like an idiot. There is no way in hell that he deserves this perfect creature in his arms. He can’t help leaning over and kissing Alex softly, can’t help touching him, can’t help loving him. “I love you,” Alex says again. Zack will never hear those three words often enough. He has missed this so, so much over the past three years.  
  


*

  
  
_They are sixteen years old. Junior prom has just ended, and Alex is sitting in his room alone, watching for Jack’s car in the driveway next door. He’s been seething with jealousy all evening, ever since he met Zack’s date and took pictures of them standing together and smiling. No one noticed how badly his hands were shaking with the camera. It should’ve been him standing next to Zack, smiling and laughing and making bad jokes nervously. The worst part isn’t having had to see that; it’s knowing that this other guy was the one Zack wanted to dance with all night. This other guy is the person Zack wants to hold close and laugh with and smile at and maybe – probably – kiss goodbye on his doorstep. Alex isn’t sure he can handle that. It should be him, not some random guy that goes to Dulaney, which is all the way across town. He wants to hate the skunk-haired boy Zack asked to prom, but the problem is that Jack is actually a nice person. Jack is funny and smart and handsome. Alex is none of these things; he’s a little awkward, his hair sticks up in every direction no matter what he does to tame it, and he’s selectively mute. It’s not hard to understand why Zack would ask Jack instead of Alex._  
  
His stomach twists uncomfortably as he watches the car pull into the Merricks’ driveway. Jack gets out of the car first and walks around to open the passenger side door for Zack. They’re smiling at each other, laugh, and Alex feels a pang of jealousy. He has no rational reason to hate Jack. It’s ridiculous; he should not be waiting up for his best friend to come home from a stupid school dance. From his bedroom window, he can see the entire driveway as well as the front porch. He watches unhappily as they embrace, talking and giggling awkwardly before Jack leans in and kisses Zack. It’s one of those high school romance movie kisses, the ones where the guy touches the girl’s face and pets her hair and looks into her eyes for a long time afterward.   
  
Alex would really like to punch Jack Barakat out for kissing Zack. He can feel the rage building up inside his chest like steam. ‘Stop,’ he wants to shout. He wants to run over there in a totally cliché eighties-movie way, shove Jack out of the way and declare his undying love to Zack. He wants to throw his arms around Zack’s neck and kiss him so hard he forgets that Jack even exists. But of course, it’s not going to happen because Alex is a coward. He is powerless to do anything but sit with his forehead pressed against his bedroom window, watching the love of his life kiss this other boy. And in his typical bitter, cynical way, he thinks about the fact that Jack has a weird nose and that his limbs are too long for the rest of his body. He’s an awkward, gangly thing. Why is Zack attracted to him?   
  
“Stop,” he says, and it surprises him when it comes out. His voice is a horrible, rasping sound. It’s embarrassing. “I love you,” he whispers, pressing his palm flat against the glass. The tears keep coming until Jack’s car creeps out of the driveway, headlights off, and Zack is safely inside his house. Alex watches for his bedroom light to go out before crawling into bed, where he pulls the covers up over his head and he cries some more.   
  
He is a terrible friend for feeling this way. Zack has found someone who makes him happy, so he should be happy too. But he isn’t; it feels like someone has ripped his heart out and thrown it carelessly into the street so it can be run over again and again by passing cars. The next day, when Zack comes over to tell him all about it, he pretends to be excited. He nods in all the right places, writes down a few stupid jokes, and tries to keep his eyes wide and bright. On the inside, he feels like dying. He can’t stand it. He can’t stop thinking about seeing Zack – his Zack – kissing someone else.   
  
“So what did you do last night?” Zack asks him.  
  
He shrugs, rolls his eyes. ‘The usual stuff,’ he writes. ‘You know, watched some T.V., took a shower, jerked off to some pictures of your beautiful face...’ Zack laughs and gives him a little shove. He pretends to pout, but he is actually glad that he’s doing a better job at pretending to feel normal than he’d thought he would. Finally, he works up the courage to ask the question he’s been dying to ask all day. ‘So... Do you think you’ll go out with Jack again?’  
  
Zack bursts out laughing. “Oh God,” he says. “Jack’s really not my type. He’s a good friend, but I don’t think I would want to date him. Besides, I’m kind of interested in someone else.”   
  
Alex wants to ask, ‘Why did you let him kiss you then?’ but doesn’t. That would make him sound incredibly clingy, not to mention more than a little creepy. He can’t help wondering who Zack is interested in, though. They don’t hang out with anyone other than each other, and occasionally Jack and his friends that go to Dulaney. It’s going to bother him until he figures it out. He writes, ‘Stay away from my dad, bro. That’s creepy as shit.’ They both laugh, and pretty soon junior prom is all but forgotten. Alex is incredibly relieved. He doesn’t know what he would do if Zack actually started dating someone. It would consume him with jealousy, and he wouldn’t be able to deal with it.   
  


*

  
  
They’ve been delegated back to the mouldy-smelling couch in the basement by Zack’s parents. Alex doesn’t know why they bother anymore; the concrete walls still don’t mask the sounds of their arguments and they never have. He snuggles into his boyfriend’s chest, wondering if it would be inappropriate to make out while Zack’s parents are still home or not. Zack’s working on pushing his already-too-small shirt up, and so far he has pretended not to notice. It’s working – Zack’s hand runs up and down his side insistently, so he sighs, sitting up to pull the shirt over his head and discard it on the floor. “Are you happy now?” he mutters, still acting like he’s annoyed with his boyfriend for being a pervert. Secretly, he’s really enjoying it and is hoping for more of the same in the very near future.   
  
“Very,” says Zack, pulling Alex into his lap. “You were wearing too many clothes before.”  
  
Alex sticks his tongue out, fully aware that this is only going to add to his boyfriend’s sexual frustration. His efforts are rewarded by Zack’s arms wrapping around his waist, bringing their bodies closer together. “Hmmm,” he sighs. “Shirtless boyfriend. I like this.” He squeezes Zack’s bicep before leaning up to capture his lips in a soft kiss, running his hands over Zack’s chest. The way Zack kisses makes him feel like he’s melting; their tongues and teeth and lips move together and it’s amazing.   
  
Upstairs, a door slams, but they both ignore it. Alex moans quietly as Zack’s mouth moves along his neck, pausing briefly to suck at his pulse point before continuing to kiss along his jaw. He tries his hardest not to do anything embarrassing, but this feels like nothing he’s ever experienced before. Zack murmurs, “God, you’re beautiful,” and that’s enough to make him blush instantly. He wants to reply with something like, ‘Have you seen yourself lately?’ but he doesn’t trust himself to say anything at the moment. When Zack’s teeth graze his skin, he whimpers, digging his fingernails into Zack’s arm.   
  
“Uh,” he moans, raking his nails across Zack’s stomach. He knows he’s going to have an epic hickey after this. That doesn’t mean he cares; not when his boyfriend’s gorgeous mouth is all over his skin, leaving kisses and little nips and bites everywhere. “Zaaaaack,” he whines. “Stop being a fuckin’ t-tease.”  
  
“Who’s teasing?” Zack murmurs, biting hot and hard at his collarbone. His teeth clamp down, leaving a dark purple mark on the sensitive skin. “Mine,” he says possessively. Alex has to admit that this newly-found possessive streak is kind of hot... Zack straddles his hips, pushing him back onto the couch and kissing him hungrily. He can feel Zack’s erection pressing against his thigh, and that thought alone is enough to add to his own arousal. This is because of him – he’s the one turning his boyfriend on like this, which is amazing but also slightly terrifying. It’s all he can do to keep from bucking his hips up into Zack’s, even though he very much wants to.   
  
Alex can feel his self-control slowly slipping away; what little he had left dissolves as soon as he feels Zack’s lips close around his nipple, sucking at it gently until he’s moaning Zack’s name, breathing hard and whimpering. “Oh God,” he says, more breathily than he had intended. He can’t help it anymore; his hips are rocking against Zack’s and it feels so, so good, and if this is how good it feels before Zack even touches him then he can’t wait for what comes after. It doesn’t even matter that they are on a couch in a basement. They could be doing it on a bed of nails and Alex would still want – would still need – this. “I need you, I need...” His jeans are becoming uncomfortably tight; will it make him look slutty if he reaches between them to undo them? Apparently Zack has been having the same thought, because a moment later they are both fumbling with zippers, buttons, belt buckles. Alex manages to work his jeans down around his thighs.   
  
“Fuck, you’re hot,” Zack moans.  
  
Alex can’t say anything anymore; the movement of their hips is making this delicious type of friction and all he can do is cling to Zack and make incomprehensible noises. He can feel the tension building, and in the rational part of his mind he realizes that it is probably a very bad idea to be dry humping his boyfriend on a couch in his basement, but the other part of his mind really does not care. All it cares about is the fact that he’s really, really close and that he needs to get off. Zack’s hair is beginning to curl; little beads of sweat are running down his neck and that’s what does it for Alex. He grips Zack’s shoulders, sinking his teeth into Zack’s collarbone as he’s practically seeing stars.   
  
Zack looks down at him, kisses his forehead softly and sighs. “Well, that was... uh.” Alex can feel his heartbeat under his fingertips as he wraps his arms around Zack’s neck, pulling him down for another kiss. They kiss lazily, sloppily, both trying to recover from what had turned out to be a very rewarding experience. Zack pulls away and laughs. “I guess you had to make up for three years of not talking somehow, huh? You can’t seem to shut up now. Although... those little noises you make are ridiculously hot.”  
  
Solemnly, Alex reaches up and flicks his boyfriend’s nose. “You’re an asshole,” he mumbles. His face is hot with embarrassment. Zack smiles and kisses him an apology. Yeah, he’ll take that. They don’t need to talk anymore, anyway; years of not being able to has taught Zack how to read his body like a book. And that, he thinks, might come in handy sooner rather than later...


End file.
